宗教史(敘利亞苦修者傳) 第 1 章 第 3/13 段

And a certain man, entrusted with the highest office and charged to hold the helm of the East, sent and besought him to come and free him from the illness that pressed upon him.

He, without any delay, went, and having entreated the common Master, dissolved the affliction by a word, and enjoined him to render thanks to God.

Having accomplished these and similar deeds, he thereafter resolved to return to his ascetic hut.

But those who presided over piety there gathered together and besought him to defend them, as they expected manifest destruction.

For they said that Asterius, having been reared in sophistic false speech, and then having thrust himself into the church of the heretics and been deemed worthy of episcopal office, was terribly pleading the cause of falsehood and employing base artifice against the truth;

"And we fear," they said, "lest, by concealing falsehood with the bait, as it were, of eloquence, and spreading the entanglements of his syllogisms like nets, he should ensnare many of those who have lived in simplicity."

For this very reason he had been summoned by the adversaries.

which he was about to bring about—this advocate of falsehood and enemy of truth received a God-sent blow, and, having been ill for but a single day, passed out of the roll of the living, hearing, as is fitting, that voice:

"Fool, this night your soul is required of you;

and the evils you have prepared—the nets and the all-catching snares—will be for yourself, and not for another."

The same thing befell Balaam also, who himself likewise had been summoned against the divine people;

but having counseled Balak unholy things against it, he himself paid the penalty, receiving slaughter at the hand of an Israelite.

So this man too, since he had contrived a wicked scheme against the people of God, was deprived of his life through the people of God.

Cyrrhus enjoyed this deliverance through his prayer.

These accounts were handed down to me by that divine leader, the great Acacius, who knew exactly everything concerning him.

Departing from there, then, and reaching his fellow ascetics, and having spent no little time with them, he passed most eagerly into the ageless and griefless life, having practiced impassibility within his mortal nature, while awaiting the immortality of the body.

Here, then, having brought my account of this narrative to a close, I shall proceed to another, entreating the saints named in this narrative to procure for me, through their intercession, favor from on high.

MARCIANUS. How could we worthily admire the illustrious Marcianus, unless clearly by ranking him with Elijah and John and those like them, who went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, afflicted, ill-treated—men of whom this world was not worthy—wandering in deserts, and mountains, and caves, and the holes of the earth? For he had of old Cyrrhus as his homeland, which I mentioned earlier, and after that, the desert;

and having now left both the one and the other, he possesses heaven.

The one gave him birth, the other reared him and displayed him victorious, and He received him as a crowned victor.

For having despised the renown of his lineage — for he was descended from a noble house — and the splendor of the imperial court — for he had flourished there, having received from the Creator of nature a commanding stature and beauty, and possessing a soul adorned with quickness of mind — he transferred the whole of his affection to God and to the things of God.

And having bidden farewell to all, he came to the very heart of the desert, and having built himself a tiny hut not even proportioned to his own body, and having enclosed it further with a small wall of stones round about, he shut himself up there continually, separated indeed from all human company, but conversing with the Master of all things and hearkening to that sweet voice.

For whenever he read the divine oracles, he considered that he was thereby enjoying the divine voice itself;

while when praying and offering his supplications, it was he himself who was holding converse with the Master.

And though he ever enjoyed so great a delight, he never wished to take his fill of it.

Longing for these fruits, he embraced this most pleasant toil: prayer was succeeded by psalmody, and psalmody in turn by prayer, and both again by the reading of the divine oracles.

His food was bread alone, and this taken by weight;

and the weight was so small that it would not even satisfy the need of an infant just weaned from the breast —

one portion being allotted to each day.

For he had resolved to eat once each day, in the evening, but never to take his fill, but always to hunger and always to thirst, offering the body only what sufficed for life.

For he used to say that he who takes food only after the passage of several days performs the Master's services more feebly on the days of his fasting;

while on the day again on which he does partake of food, taking more, as is likely, he burdens his stomach;

and the stomach, once weighed down, renders the soul the more sluggish with regard to its vigilance.

It was better, therefore, he said, to partake of food daily, but never to wait for satiety;

for true fasting is a continual want.

That divine man continued to lay down these ordinances for himself; and though he had a very great body, and was the tallest and most handsome of all the men of his time, he nourished it with this meager ration.

After some time had passed, he received two companions to dwell with him: Eusebius, who became heir of that sacred hut, and Agapetus, who transplanted this angelic legislation to the land of the Apameans;

for there is a very large and populous village there, Nikertai by name;

in it, therefore, he established two very great houses of philosophy: the one named after himself, the other after the wondrous Symeon, who for the span of fifty years shone forth in this same philosophy.

In these houses, even to this day, more than four hundred men dwell, athletes of virtue and lovers of piety, purchasing heaven with their labors.

The lawgivers of this way of life are Agapetus and Symeon, who received their laws from the great Marcianus.

From these were planted countless other dwellings of ascetics besides, adorned with these same laws — too many to be easily numbered.

But the planter of all these was that divinely inspired man;

for he who supplied the most excellent seed might rightly also be called the cause of the good things that grew from it.

At first, then, as I have said, he alone occupied that voluntary prison;

then, having received these two, he did not keep them as fellow-inmates of that same cell;

for the little hut did not suffice even for himself alone, being altogether tiny, and causing him great distress whether standing or lying down.

For neither, standing, was he able to straighten himself up, the roof bending both his head and his neck, nor, lying down, could he stretch out his feet, the length of the dwelling not being equal in measure to his body.

He therefore permitted them to build another hut, and bade them dwell in it, singing hymns and praying by themselves, and reading the divine oracles.

But since it was necessary that more should share in this benefit, he directed that another dwelling be built at a distance, and bade those who wished to do so live in it.

Eusebius took the lead over them, conveying to them the teaching of the great Marcianus.

And that divine Agapetus, having been trained as was fitting, and having exercised himself and been most excellently schooled in this athletic discipline, returned, as I have said, and sowed the seeds that he had received from that divine soul.

He became so renowned and so widely regarded that he was even deemed worthy of the episcopal see and entrusted with pastoral care, and was given charge of the oversight of his own homeland.

And the wondrous Eusebius, presiding over the flock that had gathered, also took upon himself the care of his teacher, and was alone deemed worthy to visit him at the appointed time and to inquire whether he wished for anything.

Once, wishing at night to see what he was doing, he ventured to approach the small light-shaft — for it was but a narrow one —

and beheld a light flashing forth from the crown of his teacher's head, revealing the very arrangement of the letters of the divine oracles;

for indeed he happened at that moment to be holding a book, and was searching out the inviolable treasure of the divine will.

And having beheld this, the wondrous Eusebius was filled with awe and became full of trembling, and he came to understand the grace poured out upon the divine servant, and learned of God's goodwill toward His servants.

At another time, while the great Marcianus was praying in the forecourt, a serpent, having crept up onto the wall that faced east, peered over the top of the wall, gaping and glaring fiercely at once, and signaling its malicious intent.

Eusebius, standing far off, and fearing that dreadful sight, and suspecting that his teacher was unaware of it, pointed it out to him, crying aloud and begging him to flee.

But he, rebuking him and bidding him cast out his cowardice — for this too, he said, was a deadly passion — traced the sign of the cross beforehand with his finger, and breathed with his mouth, thereby making plain the ancient enmity.

And the serpent, as though scorched by some fire in the breath of his mouth, and as it were set ablaze, was dissolved into many pieces, like straw that has been burnt up.

Observe, then, whether he has not, as a loyal servant, imitated his Master.

For the Master too, when the sea once raged furiously against the boat of His disciples, having beheld them in anguish, did not still the storm of the sea until He had first, by rebuke, put an end to the disciples' unbelief.

Hence this wondrous man, having been schooled in these things, first cast out his disciple's cowardice, and only then delivered the beast to punishment.

Such were the wisdom, the wonder-working, and the boldness before God of the great Marcianus;

yet nevertheless, even though deemed worthy of such grace and able to perform great wonders, he was eager to conceal his power, being wary of the schemes of the thief of virtue;

for the passion of vainglory, once secretly sown, attempts to plunder the fruits gathered through toil.

And though eager to hide the grace given to him, he worked wonders against his own will, the splendor of his achievements flashing forth and laying bare the power that lay hidden.

And on one occasion the following thing happened to occur.

A certain man of noble birth, who had often been entrusted with military commands, coming from Beroea in Syria, since his daughter had for a long time been raving in frenzy and was being troubled and driven mad by an evil demon, made his way to the desert; being an acquaintance of the great Marcianus, and expecting, on account of their former acquaintance, to meet with him and entreat him.

But having been disappointed of his hope, and having failed to obtain sight of the divine servant, he besought a certain old man, who at that time had been entrusted with the ministry to the divine man, to receive a small flask full of oil and to place it right at the door of the little dwelling.

The old man, having many times refused the undertaking, but again many times being entreated, was at last overcome by the supplication.

But the great Marcianus, perceiving the sound, inquired who it was and what need had brought him.

He concealed the true reason, but pretended that he had come to learn whether he needed anything;

and having said this, he was sent away.

But toward dawn, the girl's father again besought that the flask be returned to him;

and he, though afraid, nevertheless went as quietly as he could, and, stretching out his hand and taking the flask, tried to escape notice.

But he again asked what he wanted, that he had come.

And when he gave the same excuse that he had also declared the evening before, the divine man, being displeased, since the old man's coming had happened contrary to custom, ordered him to report the truth.

He told the whole dramatic tale, and displayed the flask.

He was indeed indignant, as was natural for one who did not wish his virtue to be displayed;

yet nevertheless, having threatened that, if he should dare such a thing again, he would both be deprived of that companionship and be removed from his ministry — and this was the greatest loss to those who knew its worth — he sent him away, bidding him return it to the one who had given it.

But the demon, though four stages removed from the one who was driving it out, cried aloud, confessing his power;

and Marcianus, at Beroea, performed the work of a judge, employing certain tormentors against the demon, driving out the guilty one, and declaring the girl pure of his working.

And this the girl's father came to know with precision.

For as he was returning, and was still a few stades distant from the city, a certain servant met him, one who had been sent out to the field by his mistress.

This man, then, on seeing his master, brought him the good tidings of the wonder that had occurred, saying that the miracle had taken place four days before.

Having therefore counted the days and carefully examined the timing, he learned that it was that very day on which the old man had carried out the flask.

But I reflect on what this great man would not have done, had he wished to work wonders.

For if, though he was eager to conceal the grace he had received, he still let forth so great a radiance, what wonder-working would he not have performed, had he wished it? In this same way he did not reveal his spiritual wisdom to everyone either — and this only at the very end, when he permitted those who wished to come in to him after the feast of the saving Passion and the Lord's Resurrection.

Indeed, at that very time all were eager to see him.

And once the foremost of the bishops gathered and came to him: the great Flavian, entrusted with shepherding the church of the Antiochenes, and the divine Acacius, whom I mentioned before, and Eusebius, bishop of the Chalcidians, and Isidore, who was then entrusted with governing Cyrrhus — men distinguished for virtue.

With them also was Theodotus, holding the reins of the Hierapolitans, distinguished for ascetic discipline and gentleness.

There were also present some of those in office and rank, who possessed the living spark of the faith.

As all sat in silence, awaiting his sacred voice, he too sat silent for a long while, his tongue idle but his hearing active.

Then one of those seated — a man familiar with him because of his care for the soul, and besides that distinguished in rank — said:

"All of us, father," he said, "even these divine fathers, thirsting for your teaching, await your most sweet streams."

"So impart benefit to all who are present, and do not withhold the streams of your beneficence." But he, sighing greatly, said:

"The God of all things," he said, "speaks every single day: he speaks through creation, and converses through the divine Scriptures, and exhorts what is needful, and sets forth what is profitable, and terrifies with threats, and urges with promises — and yet we reap no benefit."

"How then could Marcianus, by speaking, be of benefit, when I too dismiss so great a benefit along with the others and am unwilling to obtain profit from it?" At this many words were stirred up among the fathers, which I have judged superfluous to insert into this narrative.

Rising up and praying, and wishing to lay upon him the ordination of the priesthood, they again feared to undertake it.

This one urged that one, and that one urged this one, to do it.

But all alike, having declined, made their departure.

But I wish to add to these yet another narrative, which is a token of his divine understanding.

A certain Abitus was the first to pitch his ascetic hut in the other desert.

This desert lies further north than the other, and a little toward the east, in the direction of the north wind where it draws near to the east wind.

He was older both in years and in labor, a man devoted to philosophy, and reared in a hard way of life.

This man, having learned of the virtue of Marcianus, which was renowned everywhere, and having judged that such a sight would be more profitable than his own long stillness, ran, hastening to see the object of his desire.

When the great Marcianus learned of his arrival, he opened the door and received him in to himself.

He instructed the admirable Eusebius to boil pulse, and vegetables too, if he had any.

When they had had their fill of conversation with one another and had come to know each other's virtue, they together performed the ninth-hour service.

And Eusebius came, carrying a table and bringing loaves.

And the great Marcianus said to the divinely-inspired Abitus:

"I do not recall," he said, "ever having partaken of food before evening; indeed I often go two or three days together without food at all." Then the great Marcianus said:

"For my sake, at least," he said, "let the custom be changed today."

"For being weak of body, I cannot wait until evening." But when, though saying even this, he did not persuade the admirable Abitus, he is said to have sighed and to have said:

"But I myself am greatly discouraged, and my soul is stung, because you endured such labor in order to see some hard-working and philosophic man, and, cheated of your hope, you have beheld some huckster and prodigal instead of a philosopher." And when the most divine Abitus was distressed at this and said he would rather partake of meat than hear such things, the great Marcianus said:

"We too, my friend, pursue the same life as you and embrace the same way of life; we prefer labors to rest, and we choose fasting over food, and only when night comes on do we then partake of it."

"But we know that the matter of love is more precious than that of fasting."

"For the one is the work of divine legislation, but the other is a matter of our own discretion."

"And it is fitting to regard the divine laws as far more precious than our own." Having conversed thus with one another, and having partaken of a little food, and having praised God in hymns, and having spent three days together with one another, they parted, seeing each other again thereafter in spirit.

Who, then, would not marvel at the wisdom of this man, guided by which he knew the time for fasting, and knew the time for brotherly love, and knew also the distinction among the parts of virtue, and which ought to yield to which, and to which, on a given occasion, one should award the prize of victory? I have also another narrative which is a token of his perfection in divine matters.

For his sister came to him from their homeland, together with her son — a grown man, and a leading citizen of Cyrrhus — bringing him necessities in abundance.

But he would not permit himself to see his sister, though he received his nephew;

for it was the appointed time for meeting with visitors.

And when they entreated that the things they had brought be received, he said:

"Depart," he said, "with what you have brought."

"For we have need of none of these things, nor, even if we were in need, would we accept them."

"For it is out of regard for natural kinship, and not for divine service, that you show us this kindness with these things."

"For if you did not honor only the nearness of kin, you would not have given a share of what you brought to us alone."

Saying these things, he sent his nephew away together with his sister, not even ordering that the least bit of what they had offered be received.

So far beyond nature was he, and he had passed over into the way of life of the heavens.

For what clearer example than this could one offer, that he was worthy of God, according to the very word of God himself:

"Whoever [does not forsake] brothers and sisters and wife and children is not worthy of me"? And if he who does not forsake them is unworthy, then he who does forsake them, and does so with such exacting perfection, was clearly most worthy of all.

And I, besides these things, also marvel at the precision of his divine doctrines.

For he abhorred the madness of Arius, which at that time was being kindled by the imperial power;

and he loathed also the derangement of Apollinaris;

and he nobly contended also against those who held the views of Sabellius and who gathered the three hypostases into one;

and he entirely turned away also from those called Euchites, who under a monastic guise were afflicted with the disease of the Manichaeans.

So fervent was his zeal for the doctrines of the Church that he even undertook a righteous struggle against a man who was admirable and divine.

There was a certain Abraham, an elder in that desert, a man with grey hair, but a mind grown yet greyer with wisdom, resplendent with every virtue, and ever welling up the tear of compunction.

This man, at first led by a certain simplicity, was accustomed to keep the earlier Pascha, being ignorant, as is likely, of what had been legislated concerning this by the fathers at Nicaea, but choosing to be a servant to ancient custom.

And many others also, at that time, suffered from this same ignorance.

But the great Marcianus, using many arguments many times, tried to bring the elder Abraham — for so the local people called him — over to the accord of the Church.

But seeing him unpersuaded, he openly withdrew from communion with him.

But as time passed, that divinely-inspired man cast off the blemish of error and came to love the harmony of the divine feast, and sang truthfully:

"Blessed are the blameless in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord." And this too was an achievement of the teaching of the great Marcianus.

For him many built oratories everywhere: in Cyrrhus, his nephew Alypius; and in Chalcis, a certain Zenobiana, distinguished both by birth and by virtue, and abounding in wealth.

And not a few others did this very thing, contending eagerly to seize that victorious athlete.

Knowing this, the man of God besought that admirable Eusebius, binding him with oaths full of every dread, to lay his body to rest in that very place and to let no one know the grave, except two of his most intimate fellow-dwellers, until a great number of years had passed.

And that admirable man fulfilled this oath.

For when the end of the victorious one came, and a choir of angels transported that sacred and divine soul to the dwelling-places in heaven, Eusebius did not disclose his death until, having dug the grave with the two most intimate companions and having laid the body, he had leveled the surface of the ground.

And though fifty years and more have passed, and countless people have come running together and searched diligently for the body, the grave has remained unknown.

But since each of the aforementioned shrines had received relics — one of apostles, another of martyrs — the heirs of that man's tent and teaching, growing bold, two years before this writing constructed a stone coffin, and in it translated the relics of the honored body, one man having pointed out the grave;

for he alone of the three was still living.

And the admirable Eusebius, having become an emulator of that man's virtue, continued to wear down his body with even greater labors.

For while already wearing a hundred and twenty pounds of iron about himself, he put upon himself as well the other fifty pounds that had belonged to the most divine Agapetus, and he added also the eighty pounds that had belonged to the great Marcianus.

As his dwelling he had a certain pit devoid of water, and he continued to live in this manner for the space of three years.

I have digressed into these words, wishing to show for how many others as well the great Marcianus became the patron of great achievements.

The admirable Basil also profited from this man's philosophy—he who, many years later, near Seleucobelus (a city of Syria), built the monastic dwelling, and shone in many other kinds of virtue, but shone especially in the God-beloved possession of love, and in the divine achievement of hospitality.

But how many workmen did he too present to God—to speak in the Apostle's words—workmen not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth: who could easily number them? For, that I may for the present pass over the others, who are worthy of praise but would lengthen the narrative, I shall make mention of one of these alone.

There was a certain disciple of his, whom they called Sabinus, who wore away his body with countless labors.

For he partook neither of bread nor of any cooked food.

His food was flour moistened with water.

He was accustomed to mix together all his food for the month at once, so that it grew moldy and gave off a strong stench.

He wished this kind of food to dull the body's appetites, and by the food's foulness to wither pleasure.

Though he lived thus by himself, if ever any of his acquaintances arrived, he would partake simply of everything set before them.

He received such grace from God that a certain woman—one of the eminent, priding herself both on family and on wealth—ran there from Antioch and implored him to come to the aid of her daughter, who was being assailed by a demon.

"For in a dream," she said, "I saw someone urging me to run here, and to obtain, through the prayers of the one presiding over the monastery, salvation for my daughter." Now the one who was answering her said that it was not the custom for the superior to converse with women.

But when the woman persisted, weeping and lamenting and bitterly imploring, the abbot of the monastery came out.

But the woman said that this was not the man; another had been shown to her, ruddy in complexion, with certain blemishes upon his cheeks.

When they recognized the man sought—he was third in the monastery, not first—they persuaded him and brought him to the woman, and at once she recognized his face;

and the evil demon, crying out, left the girl.

Such were the achievements accomplished by the disciples of the disciples of the great Marcianus;

such plants did the excellent husbandman plant everywhere.

And I, having now brought this narrative to an end, entreat and beseech that, through the intercession of all these, I may obtain divine aid.

EUSEBIUS. What fruits the unfruitful desert has borne to God—ripe and mature and precious, dear to the husbandman, and lovely and thrice-desired to men of sound understanding—we have already shown in the narratives already written.

But lest anyone suppose that virtue is circumscribed by place, and that the desert alone is fit to bear such a harvest, come, let us now turn our discourse to the inhabited world, and show that it is by no means an obstacle to the acquisition of the philosophic life.

There is a lofty mountain, situated to the east of Antioch and to the west of Beroea, rising above the neighboring mountains, its topmost peak resembling a cone in shape, and having received its name from its height—

for the neighboring inhabitants are accustomed to call it so.

On its very summit there was formerly a sanctuary of demons, greatly honored by those who dwelt nearby.

To the south a bay-shaped plain is spread out below, enclosed on either side by ridges not very high.

In this plain villages, both small and large, have been settled, joined to the mountains on either side.

Right at the foot of the lofty mountain there is a very large and populous village, which in the local tongue they call Teleda.

Above the foothills there is a wooded glen, not very steep, but moderately sloping toward that plain and facing the south wind.

In this glen a certain Ammianus built a school of philosophy—a man who shone in many other kinds of virtue, but who surpassed others especially in the most moderate cast of mind.